I used to have these weird experiences as a child. Maybe we have all had them. I haven’t confirmed, but have you? I would be sat in thought, usually in a closet, or gazing into the off-white walls of my room, and my mind would go somewhere; spiral down a mysterious rabbit hole into what I can only describe as the cosmos. And then as if someone had snapped their figures, I would forget everything (but not the feeling) and be express-couriered back, but it wasn’t like I was being couriered-back, it was instantaneous, or timeless. Kim, a friend of mine, said her mother believed that children up to the age of 5 were otherworldly. That even though physically they lived on this plane of existence, much of their mind, soul, spirit were somewhere else. I sort of believe that. Maybe they’re closer to something, a cleaner slate, less bogged down by this world and all its charades to be buried in the muck of life. I am reading a novel/memoir by Daryl Glinn-Tanner, What Feeds the Heart and in it her imaginary friend Willothin helps her through the abandonment and neglect of having a drug-addicted mother. It is beautifully written. I can’t get over how destructive humans can be to children. Maybe that’s all our fault. We destroy innocence. I wrote a poem that I’ll share with you about that here:The Little OnesI want the little ones to save us.They,with light step and sound heart.Likethe renewal of spring, a fountain,ceaselessly giving –I want their owl eyes,with the depths of sagesto fill the streets of this ruined city again.I will step back and let them reign.No more will my mind, fogged and faded with decades of smog and soot,suspend their blooming synapses.